


My Gift to You

by mattsloved1



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Family, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Romance, Slash, birthday gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 03:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/908588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattsloved1/pseuds/mattsloved1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is Sherlock's birthday and John has something extra special planned for him.  :-)</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Gift to You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MapleleafCameo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleleafCameo/gifts).



> Over three months ago, I started a 221B for MapleleafCameo's birthday. Due to real life, and a story that wouldn't stop, I finally finished it last night right before she left to go on holiday for a while. Oh well, better late then never! 
> 
> Also, much thanks to starrysummernights for being my beta on this one and to johnsarmylady for Brit picking it for me. :-) 
> 
> As always, I do not own them therefore I don't profit from them.

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Sherlock entered the living room of 221B.

 

After finishing up a case at 2:00 am, the detective had helped Lestrade fill out the necessary paperwork before making his way home. Exhausted, Sherlock had let his clothes fall haphazardly on the floor before snuggling under the duvet, and against John, for warmth. The good doctor had left for home earlier in the evening. Having a shift he could not miss the next morning, he had left the diamond smuggler’s capture safely in the hands of his lover and Lestrade’s team.

 

Now, ten hours later, Sherlock was fully rested and ready to regal John with all of the details of how he had brought yet another criminal to justice; however, there was no John to be found.  Sherlock padded into the kitchen and reached blindly for the kettle. His hand brushed against something rectangular.  Looking down he found an envelope bearing his name.  On the inside was a piece of parchment paper. He read.

 

_Dear Sherlock,_

_Happy Birthday!_

_I forgot to tell you I’m working a double shift.  Considering you are going to sleep most of the day, I decided you wouldn’t mind. I will see when I’m finished at 6 pm!_

_Also, inside this envelope you will find a small piece of paper with a short rhyme. This is my gift to you. It will direct you to a person you are meant to call. Despite your initial response please don’t text them.  After wishing you a happy birthday they will read you another rhyme that will direct you to another person. Enjoy yourself and I will see you soon!_

_I love you,_

_John_

 

Sherlock rubbed his thumb over the three words preceding John’s name.  Ever since his return eight months earlier, he had been continually thankful for the strength and compassion of his blogger. The detective firmly believed that there were many who could fit with John Watson but only one who would truly fit Sherlock Holmes.

 

Glancing inside the envelope, Sherlock found it empty and dropped his gaze to the floor.  There, still partially folded, was a small piece of purple paper.  Opening it, he was met once more with John’s bold script.

_I was a lonely child_

_Until your grand debut_

_We two are much the same_

_And that you can’t undo_

  
_Fantastic_ , he thought while rolling his eyes and sitting down in the nearby chair, he was going to have to call Mycroft, the Queen himself. Remembering the laugh he and John had shared at his brother’s expense while in Buckingham Palace caused the tall man’s lips to quirk upwards.

 

Trust John to get the most unpleasant part over and done with as soon as possible. The doctor firmly believed in getting bad news over with before moving on to the good.

 

Knowing that if he didn’t make contact with his brother then John’s gift would be ruined made the decision easy for Sherlock. He hated to see disappointment on the weather face he knew so well. Feeling he deserved a nice cup of tea for the sacrifice he was about to make, Sherlock filled the kettle and turned it on before taking a deep breath and dialling his brother’s number. Seconds later the two men were connected.

 

“Aah, Sherlock, felicitations on this, the thirty-eighth anniversary of your birth,” Mycroft answered.

 

“Yes, yes, Happy Birthday to me and so on and so forth. Just do us both a favour and tell me the rhyme for the person I am meant to contact next.”

 

“Now, now, Sherlock, I’m certain Doctor Watson would like to hear you played nicely during our conversation. After all, I do have the information required to continue this little game.”

 

Sherlock hated the condescension he could hear in his brother’s voice. Mycroft made no attempt to hide his firm belief that the two flatmates caring for one another was not advantageous for either man. He had spent much of Sherlock’s adolescence drilling the opinion of caring making a person weak and more at risk. Yet amongst the many things the detective had learned since meeting John, the genius now knew the truth. And that was this: strength and support are plentiful when you allow the right people in.

 

Not wanting to disappoint John, Sherlock swallowed his pride. 

 

“Thank you for the greetings Mycroft, the rhyme for the next person would be appreciated.”

 

His nails dug deeper into the palms they were curled against when his elder brother responded.

 

“It’s nice to see that John has managed to teach you some manners.”

 

So much of Sherlock wanted to snap at the man on the other line, to reach into his bag of childhood injuries and render the bane of his existence speechless. His mouth opened, ready to deliver a poisonous barb, but then the face of his lover came to his mind’s eye. To keep silent, Sherlock bit his lower lip. Hard.

 

“Here is your rhyme.

 

_So long I idolized you_

_Back when I was so blind_

_Years later I can see that_

_You’re not for me I find_

 

It took less than a second for the genius to know his next call would be to Molly.

 

During his time away from Baker Streetm her help had been invaluable. The two had become true friends once Sherlock had started seeing Molly had a great deal more worth than just getting him coffee and into the morgue. She also had grown up and realized the genius was a man who needed help when the most important person to him, John, was ignorant of his continued existence.

 

Deciding to end the phone call, since he now had the information he needed, Sherlock said goodbye to his brother with artificial cheerfulness.

 

“As always, it’s been a pleasure speaking with you Mycroft. Enjoy your day and try not to eat too many sweets.”

 

No time was given for a response before he pushed the end key on his phone and smiled when he thought of the scowl his brother’s face would currently be wearing.

 

Sherlock chose a number on his speed dial and heard Molly’s cheery greeting soon after.

 

“Sherlock! Happy Birthday!”

 

The detective answered much differently than he would have only a few years earlier.

 

“Thank you Molly, the sentiment is appreciated.”

 

“I hope you have a great birthday.  With what John has planned you definitely should!” 

 

A small tendril of dread began to work its way up his spine as he asked cautiously, “John isn’t planning any sort of party is he, Molly?”

 

“Oh no!” Molly chuckled.  “I promise. In fact, Bill is taking me out to a concert tonight so you don’t need to worry.”

 

From the tone of her voice, Sherlock could tell she was not lying.

 

“I just know John put a lot of thought into your gift is all,” she shared.

 

Sherlock’s attention wandered until he heard another chuckle come from his mobile’s speaker. Realising he’d missed what Molly had just said, he asked her to repeat herself. She was kind and did not tease him.

 

“I said, I have to go back to work soon but I want you to know I’m happy you’re my friend, Sherlock. I know I was an annoying pain the first few years we knew one another. But things have changed and I’m glad for that. John really is the perfect partner for you and I am very happy with Bill.”

 

His voice softer than usual, Sherlock replied, “Thank you Molly. I am pleased you have found someone who enhances your life as well.”

 

There was a brief silence before Molly cleared her throat. 

 

“Well, I think I had better give you the next rhyme so you know who to get in touch with next.

 

_I’m glad you have matured_

_Since John moved in the flat_

_Although at work you can_

_Still be a dreadful prat_

 

Any ideas?”

 

“Lestrade of course,” Sherlock answered.

 

“Of course,” Molly echoed.  “Have a lovely birthday and I will see you later, Sherlock!”

 

“Goodbye, Molly,” he returned, before ending the call.

 

Sherlock then took his sheeted self off to the bedroom.  A few minutes later, wearing his nightclothes and dressing gown, Sherlock put a fresh cup of tea on the coffee table before throwing himself down onto the sofa, mobile in hand. 

 

He chose another speed dial option and waited.  Soon enough the call was picked up on the other end.

 

“Lestrade,” a tired voice answered.

 

“Detective Inspector, basking in the glory of yet another case successfully closed?”

 

“Sherlock, look I’m trying to get home as quickly as possible. That means no new cases with you unless it is a matter of life and death.”

 

The loudness of the D.I’s voice and the sound of computer keys being hit slowly in the background let the consulting detective know the other man had his phone wedged between chin and shoulder while trying to work on a never ending pile of paperwork.

 

“As much as I find the main enjoyment of my day is when listening to your voice, I believe you have something for me from John.” 

 

The sarcasm took no time invading the cloud of exhaustion surrounding the D.I; however, there was a moment of confusion before an earlier conversation was remembered.

 

“Oh, yes, that’s right.” The rustling of papers was heard. “Happy Birthday! Another year older and all that.”

 

Ready for the conversation to be over, Sherlock rolled his eyes.  “Yes, yes, thank you very much. I’ve already heard what your feelings towards me truly.”

 

“Not doing anything to change my mind right now are you?” Lestrade snarked back. 

 

Before Sherlock could reply, the D.I spoke again.

 

“Found it.  All right, here goes. 

 

_You helped to save my life_

_From one who would destroy_

_I’m glad that you are back_

_I love you my dear boy_

Sherlock smiled, “Mrs. Hudson, of course.” 

 

“Knew it wouldn’t take you any time,” Lestrade quipped, as he chuckled. 

 

“Naturally,” the genius sniffed. 

 

“Well, I have things to do and you have a call or visit to make.”

 

“Try to get home soon and sleep Inspector.”

 

Lestrade made a noise of surprise. “I didn’t know–”

 

Sherlock cut in. “It would be nice to work with you at full mental capacity for once.”

 

Lestrade could not hold back a chuckle.  “You really are an arrogant git sometimes. It’s lucky for you we all care about you nonetheless.”

 

Sherlock found he had no answer.

 

“Well, best go and talk with Mrs. Hudson.  We wouldn’t want to delay your calls and make you late meeting John.”

 

“Yes, well. As always, it has been enlightening.” 

 

He heard another chuckle as he disconnected the call.

 

Sherlock spent a few moments debating whether it would be better to call or visit their landlady.  Not certain how many people might be left on John’s list, he decided to telephone to avoid an offer of tea that might prevent him from making it to dinner on time.  After dialling the number for the flat below, Sherlock waited.

 

Once or twice he had to fight the impulse to yell down, “Mrs. Hudson! Answer the phone!” before the lady herself finally answered.

 

“Sherlock dear, happy birthday! You’ve been so quiet up there I wondered if you’d snuck out without my realizing.” There was a moment of silence. “You haven’t been doing anything you shouldn’t up there have you?” 

 

There were times when Mrs. Hudson frustrated him with her nagging and questions but even the CIA knew of her importance.

 

“No, Mrs. Hudson, I only woke up a short time ago and have been following the instructions John left for me earlier.”

 

“Oh! Isn’t it lovely?  When he told me his plans a few weeks ago, I said to him that having you do this was one of the sweetest things I’d ever heard. Why, I was just telling Mrs. Turner the other day –”

 

As much as he might love her, Sherlock had no intention of listening to Mrs. Hudson talk about her neighbour when there were more important things to discuss.

 

“Yes, very interesting, however, I believe John would appreciate it if you were to share with me the message he gave you earlier.”

 

Mrs. Hudson’s giggle revealed the young girl she had once been.  “You don’t want to be late to see your doctor I imagine.” 

 

Sherlock couldn’t help but blush, “Yes, well...”

 

Another giggle escaped the lady downstairs before she spoke again. “Yes, well, since we don’t want John waiting for you, I’ll just read the poem he gave me then.”

 

Sherlock nodded his head despite being alone in the room.  “Yes, that would be best I think.” 

 

He listened closely as Mrs. Hudson spoke.

 

“John wrote,

 

_A late surprise to me_

_My tiny little gift_

_I hold you always in my heart_

_No matter where you drift_

 

So who is next?”

 

“Mummy,” Sherlock breathed.

 

“Yes, dear, your mother is next and I wouldn’t wait too long before you talk with her.”

 

“I’ll call her directly, Mrs. Hudson.”  Sherlock promised.

 

“All right, you have a good night with John and enjoy the rest of your birthday. Good bye.”

 

Sherlock echoed her good bye before jumping up from the sofa. He took the empty tea cup and set it in the kitchen sink before darting off for a shower.  The detective made short work of washing and drying himself thoroughly before choosing a suit that complimented him as well as the purple shirt he knew was John’s favourite.  One last look at himself, a hand through his curls, and Sherlock was on his way back to their living room.

 

This time, he carefully sat in his chair as he chose _Mummy_ from his list of contacts.

 

Moments later, a warm voice answered, “Sherlock!  I hope you have been enjoying your birthday so far, my darling one.” 

 

With the simple sounds of his mother’s voice, Sherlock found memories flashing to mind.  Of nights snuggled in her arms as loud storms passed by, encouraging him to continue to use his brain when others had ridiculed him for it and praising his talent and love of the violin. 

 

Through thick and thin his mother had been a constant source of encouragement and never ending love. She was one of two people in his life to ever do so and it was fitting she should be his final contact. 

 

“It has been a more positive experience than others.”  Sherlock conceded.  After the many times it had been necessary to keep his true emotions hidden from others, even with his own brother, it was difficult to be open with them now. 

 

His mother chuckled.  “Yes, I imagine it is.  Your John met me for lunch just over a week ago and told me of his plan before asking me to take part in it.”

 

 _His John_ Sherlock marvelled before taking notice of something his mother had said. 

 

“He met with you?”

 

‘Oh yes, he came to the house for lunch to share his idea with me.  Mycroft had a car sent round for him so transportation wasn’t a problem.”

 

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed upon mention of his brother. Eight days earlier, his older sibling had claimed to have need for John at the home of a friend.  With no interest in any ‘friend’ of his brother’s, Sherlock had spent the day running experiments at Barts. Later that evening, Lestrade had shown up at the flat just before John had returned. In his excitement at the prospective case, the detective had apparently not paid close enough attention to his partner. 

 

“Sherlock dear, I believe I can actually hear you thinking and would appreciate it if you were to return to our current conversation.” 

 

The man in question blinked himself out of his thoughts and shook his head.

 

“Sorry Mummy, I was distracted.”

 

Once again the matriarch of the Holmes family gave a silvery laugh. “I can imagine you were.  Nevertheless, I am grateful to have your attention once again so that I might wish you a very happy birthday.”

 

Sherlock smiled.  “Thank you, Mummy.”

 

“I know you have railed against sentimental expressions many times in the past, something Mycroft is at fault for I know; however, I know a certain doctor has shown you the blessings of such practices and I will admit to being very happy about that.”

 

A smile continued to rest comfortably on Sherlock’s face. 

 

“As much as I enjoy speaking with you, and would love to do so more often, I fear our time must soon come to an end for now.  Your John will be leaving his place of work now and I want the two of you to have a lovely evening together. I am certain you already know that I am the last of your calls to be made. Yet I have a final message I have been entrusted with and will share it will you now.” 

 

Sherlock listened as his mother shared the words:

 

_I hope you’ve liked your chats my love_

_I patiently now wait_

_For you to come and dine with me_

_Where we had our first ‘date’_

 

Once finished, the good woman paused in order to allow Sherlock the chance to speak.

 

“Angelo’s of course. There was never any other option.”

 

The two Holmeses exchanged a warm farewell before the elder of the two extracted a promise for the presence of the two men at a Sunday lunch in the near future.  Sherlock made an internal note to choose a weekend when his brother would be out of the country. 

 

A glance at the time showed it would be best to begin his journey to the restaurant.  Sherlock wrapped his scarf around his neck and pulled the collar of his coat up. John did love how it highlighted his cheekbones after all.  Making certain his mobile was on his person, the consulting detective flew himself out of the flat and, soon after, out of the building itself.

 

He decided against the empty black cabs that passed by and chose to instead walk as he and John had done the first time.  He had never imagined his life changing so much due to the short and limping man who had walked beside him that night.  Taking a moment to reflect on how different his life would now be had Mike Stamford not taken his lunch to the park that day. Sherlock began to walk at a brisker pace.

 

When Angelo’s came into view, Sherlock kept his eyes trained on the window on its left.  Once closer, he was able to confirm what he had initially believed: Doctor John Watson was sitting in his customary seat talking to the restaurant’s owner as a candle burned merrily in the middle of the table. The genius didn’t even think to fight the grin that took over his face.

 

Once out of the cold, Sherlock greeted Angelo, thanked him for the birthday wishes and took up residence in the seat that gave him the opportunity to take his fill of his partner’s features. Despite the long day spent at the surgery, John’s face showed he was happy and full of energy.

 

His look of adoration made Sherlock feel warm and happy inside.  The normal habit of not showing any true affection in public was forgotten as he took John’s left hand in his own and kissed the knuckles on top.

 

John’s eyes twinkled.  “My gift to you wasn’t all that bad then? You don’t need things so I thought you would appreciate connecting with the people who care about you.” 

 

Sherlock took his mouth away from John’s hand in order to answer.  “Despite having to exchange words with Mycroft, however few they might have been, I found the entire experience a worthwhile one.”

 

Knowing Sherlock felt more than he was saying, John laughed.  “I am glad to hear of it. Now the rest of my plans for your birthday are quite simple. We have a lovely meal here, you tell me how you brilliantly solved the case, we then take ourselves back home and I will proceed to physically show you how very much you are loved and how happy I am to be here with you, like this, to celebrate the day you came into this world.” 

 

Being a man who now appreciated some sentimentality, once in a while, and also trusting his doctor completely, he gave him one more kiss and happily began to follow his partner’s plans. 

 

Of course, being that it was _his_ birthday, it was only fair he made a wish or two of his own known.  There was that bottle of lube called ‘Gun Oil’ he had purchased the week before...


End file.
